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Villanelle For Her



The angel walks in shadows of my soul—

Through tenebrous ether that black maiden hies;

Her starlight eyes burn holes into my heart



She came from out an unlit gulf of time,

Some black abyss that lurks beyond the skies;

The angel walks in shadows of my soul



The moonlight falls upon her naked form

And on the velvet couch whereon she lies;

Her starlight eyes burn holes into my heart



Her skin glows pallid blue in the cold night,

And the moon is drowned by the light within her eyes;

The angel walks in shadows of my soul



Her lifeless black lips fall upon my own,

And, deep within, some part of my soul dies

Her starlight eyes burn holes into my heart



She finds my mind in slumber every night

And into unlit worlds my psyche flies;

Her starlight eyes burn holes into my heart

The angel walk in shadows of my soul

Hour of the Angel



The Blackness surrounds me

The Blackness, it drowns me

It coats me, it feels me

With kisses it heals me;



The name of a woman—Darkness—so lithe;

In Blackness, she dances—a serpent, she writhes

And caresses my soul with her flickering tongue;

Our lips touch—she breathes darkness into my lungs.



The night fills my soul; she beckons me higher,

And I laugh as I aspire; my soul is afire

With the sweet, nighted ecstasy no mortal can give

And the slow, icy razor that tells me I live.



She drifts on the echoes of infinite Time,

She drifts in the deepest black pools of my mind;

She flies through night skies when the moon starts to wane,

For she is the darkness, my love and my pain.



Her face is white marble—immovable stone,

Her body a carving of ivory or bone;

Her beautiful form and her pallid, soft skin

Adorn the dark soul of the sadist within.



I see endless vistas within her dark eyes,

The black depths of hell, the eternal night skies;

Bound by her love, I drown in her gaze

Engulfed by the thoughts of a sleepy, dark haze;

Her cold, sharpened nails tearing into my skin,

My blood on the black chains that bind me to sin;

Soft, tenebrous velvet; smooth porphyry hips,

And the sweet taste of evil upon her cold lips;

Light laughter that pierces the quiet night air

Like the whistling and lashing of her long ebon hair.

Souls wail in fire that rains from above,

And I sink in the gulfs of her endless dark love.



She finds me in Blackness, in prayer, and in dreams;

She soars on the air filled with nocturnal screams;

When the sun falls and withers, and makes the skies burn

As evening descends—I await her return.